


Two Brothers, One Queen Sized Bed

by MissRomanceJunkie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode Tag, Episode: s11e05 Thin Lizzie, Extended Scene, First Kiss, Frottage, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 05:18:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5193680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissRomanceJunkie/pseuds/MissRomanceJunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of going for something to eat, Sam convinces Dean they should get a few hours shut eye. In the only bed in the room. Which they share. Feelings and smut happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Brothers, One Queen Sized Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me for the title, it's late in England and I really wanted to get this posted before the next ep aired. :)
> 
> Here's the bed-sharing fic I told [tumblr](http://missromancejunkie.tumblr.com) I'd have to write. :P

“I don’t know where to put my eyes. I think I’m gonna throw up.” Dean darted his eyes around the room, not quite willing to stare at any one area of pink floral pattern for longer than a second. Sam huffed out a laugh.

“We’re surrounded by doilies. They’re everywhere,” Sam said as he walked further into the room.

Past the sole queen sized bed.

 _Fuck_.

“Okay, you’d think the innkeeper might have mentioned this before he ripped us off.”

Sam made a face like he’d smelled a dead body and a sound to match it as he turned to look at the bed. “Uh, guess you’re gonna have to get yourself another room because this was Lizzie’s original room, and I’m not giving it up.”

Dean knew that look, had grown up with that stubborn, smug look. Like his little brother had already gotten his damn way and was just waiting for Dean to catch up.

“What are you, four?” Dean asked.

Instead of responding, Sam turned on the EMF reader. The lights hit red immediately, the familiar warbling sound filling the room.

“Look at that,” Sam said, “That jibes with what people online have been saying about the upstairs; crying in empty rooms, footsteps, buzzing lights.”

They checked out the room, EMF reader still kicking up a fuss.

“Hm. No secret panels or passageways in the closet,” Sam said, voice muffled slightly.

“Well the world’s smallest bathroom is clean.” If it weren’t for the flowers all over the place, Dean thought it wouldn’t have been such a bad place to stay.

Well, aside from the dead teenagers and the probable ghost anyway.

Walking back into the room, the flowers seemed to be coming to life if the overwhelming stench was anything to go by. “What is that smell?”

Sam picked up and old fashioned bottle. “I think it’s this,” he answered as he took a sniff, “It’s like a lavender toilet water.”

“Bottled toilet water?” Dean wasn’t going to admit to having actually purchased such an item as a gift what seemed like a lifetime ago. Besides, it was his job to make fun of his brother and he was currently spraying a bottle with toilet water on the label in his own face, so really he was asking for it. “Why do you keep spraying it?” he asked incredulously.

“I just wanted to see if the squeezy thing worked.”

“Wow.” Dean knew his brother was beyond curious, always had been, but Sam looked like he’d actually forgotten that Dean had been watching him be his usual dorky self for a second there.

“I think it was supposed to be a perfume or something.” Sam tried for a laugh but it didn’t get past a nervous exhale in Dean’s book so he decided to cut him a break. They had a case to solve anyway.

“Alright, I’m gonna go check out the rest of the inn ‘cause now I got grandma all over me, so…”

Dean heard the EMF reader start up again as he happily left his brother to his weirdness to go see what hidden secrets the place held.

After a short time spent snooping, they met back at the room. Dean told Sam about the amatuer photographer he’d spotted creeping around outside and Sam burst his own bubble by admitting he found an EMF outputter in the attic.

“C’mon,” Sam said as Dean told him about the flickering lights being on a timer.

“Oh, and check out this baby,” Dean said as he took the painting down from the wall he’d discovered a hole behind earlier. “Heh? Covering up our very own sound system. I, uh, fished this out of the wall.”

He played the recorder and Sam looked thoroughly disillusioned.

“Crying in empty rooms,” Sam said, his disappointment obvious.

“And there’s more: running footsteps, uh, creepy whispers you can’t quite make out, one flushing toilet, not quite sure what that’s about. The whole place is a hoax, man. It’s a tourist trap, just like I said.”

“Yeah, but we still don’t know how that couple got axed,” Sam said and how he kept a straight face when he said that Dean had no clue but he certainly wasn’t going to give his brother the satisfaction of drawing a reaction out of him. “I mean, how did the killer get in and out?”

“I don’t know, why don’t we Sherlock that over a beer and a lobster roll, okay? I got to get out of this doily coffin.” Dean would admit, if only in the deepest trenches of his own mind, that for the most part, the suggestion was to avoid sharing that damned bed with his hot, octopus limbed younger brother.

As he started to walk out the door though, Sam grabbed his shoulder, spinning him back around.

“Don’t be ridiculous Dean, we can’t leave this place with everything going on. What’s gotten into you?” Sam frowned, the gesture a common one on his handsome face.

“There’s always been time for beer and food before Sam,” Dean answered with his own frown.

“Yeah but that was when we had no choice but to leave the crime scene for the night. This time we are literally staying in it so there’s absolutely no reason to leave, right?”

Dean had a reason, God did Dean have a reason but unfortunately telling Sam that reason would defeat the objective. So even though he knew Sam was right about the danger, his mind still stumbled to find an alternative, believable excuse to get the Hell out of this place for a few hours. He came up empty though and Sam took his silence as acceptance.

“Look, it’s still early. I don’t want to leave but let’s at least try to get a few hours shut eye, don’t know about you but I’m not as young as I used to be and after the drive down here I’m beat. If we’re going to stake the place out tonight, I could do with a few hours rest or I’m going to draw some strange looks tomorrow when I’m interviewing people while looking like a zombie.”

“You always look like a zombie,” Dean answered, almost automatically, “But yeah, I get ya. You owe me some lobster when this is done though.”

Sam smiled. “About time you upgraded from burger and fries.”

“That’s an American staple, bitch.”

“It’s a heart attack waiting to happen, jerk.”

They grinned at one another and Dean was so happy they were on the same page right now, even if it took a monumental enemy like The Darkness to bring them back onto solid ground, standing side by side.

Sam glanced at the bed and his smile waned a little.

“You sure you don’t wanna get another room Dean?” Sam asked.

“There’s no way I’m leaving you alone in here with who knows what killing crazy serial killer fans.” They looked at the bed and then back at each other. Dean could feel his heart start to pick up speed and dug his nails into the palms of his hands. Sam was his _brother_ , this should be no big deal. “We used to share a bed all the time, man. Just suck it up for one night.”

Okay, so admittedly that was a bad choice of words but thankfully, for once, Sam didn’t call him on the unintentional pun. In fact, he didn’t seem to notice at all, instead choosing to stare at a spot over Dean’s right shoulder like the wall behind him held the answers to all their problems.

“Sam, you with me buddy?” Sam’s eyes snapped to Dean’s and he was caught in the hazel gaze. They watched each other for a moment and Dean could feel the air pressure rising around him, pushing on his skin and that weight, that feeling of being so damn heavy with secrets and guilt, was something he was used to. He broke Sam’s gaze to look back at the bed. “So we doin’ this or what Sammy, because I’m tired and I ain’t gonna be the one sleeping on the floor if that’s how you wanna play it.”

Sam shook his head, hair flopping ridiculously, and Dean ached to run his fingers through it.

Sam nodded once. “Fine,” Dean let out a silent breath of relief, “I’m sleeping on the right though.”

“Sleep where you want, man, I just want to sleep, period...”

They undressed down to shirts and boxers before slipping under the covers, Dean shutting off the lamp and settling down on his side with his back to his brother. He listened to the steady rhythm of Sam breathing, strong and sure and it always served to settle Dean’s own heart and breath, knowing Sam was safe, knowing Sam was still with him.

It was a long time before sleep dragged either of them under.

*~*~*~*

Dean woke up sweating cobs an hour later, quickly realising where the added heat was coming from.

Sam was wrapped around his back, an arm over Dean’s side and one big hand spread over his stomach where his shirt had ridden up a touch as he’d slept. Dean had one leg between his brother’s and his own hand was resting on Sam’s hip behind him.

 _Well, shit_.

He daren’t move, daren’t risk waking Sam before Dean had a tight grip on his body’s natural reaction to all that hard muscle and soft skin pressed up against him. _Natural_. _Yeah, right_. The arm around him squeezed tighter, pulling him further into Sam’s warmth and he felt a nose nuzzling into the hair behind his ear, a huff of breath tickling the back of his neck and Dean couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him as he felt his brother’s morning wood nudge his ass.

It was barely a sound but suddenly everything stopped. Sam was frozen, not even breathing as far as Dean could tell and since they were plastered against each other from head to toe he felt an expert on the subject at present. Dean himself didn’t move either, tried for the uniform breathing of sleep but knew he was failing miserably. Sam could take it though. He could just believe it and unwrap himself and then they could wake up all over again on their own sides of the beds and never speak of this and Dean had no clue why Sam hadn’t done that already.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was sleep rough and both the sound and vibrations travelled down his spine with a zing of pleasure.

Dean had been dealing with this a long time though and right now he needed to make sure his feelings for Sam remained as secret as they always had.

“That must be one hell of a chick you were dreaming about there, Sammy,” Dean said, smirk firmly in place, not that Sam could see it right now but it helped him to sell the act. Sam pulled away instantly and Dean took a few steady breaths before rolling over to look at at his brother, cheeks stained a beautiful pale pink in the early morning light, his eyes wide and borderline terrified. “Relax will ya. Breathe for God’s sake. I’m not about to kick you out into the cold over a reaction you can’t control.”

Something sparked in Sam’s eyes and then was smothered just as quick.

“Right, yeah. Good dream. Sorry man.”

Sam spoke to Dean’s chest and Dean was so relieved that the moment had passed that he didn’t even think, he just reached out to shove Sam’s shoulder but whatever throw away, teasing words he was going to say died a quick death on his lips as his thumb landed on the skin above his brother’s t-shirt and Sam pushed the hand away rapidly. His brother rocked forwards to lie flat on his stomach, rocking his hips ever so slightly into the bed, the movement obviously uncontrollable and although Sam turned his head away from him in embarrassment, it did nothing to muffle the pained whimper that had Dean reaching out to lay a hand on his brother’s back; the pure instinct to protect Sam from harm negating any self-preservation instincts in that moment.

“ _Please Dean, don’t touch me,_ ” Sam sobbed, but Dean didn’t have a choice. Sam was hurting.

He smoothed the hand slightly down his brother’s back, reaching bare skin just above his waistband, and Sam whimpered again.

“Sam, I’m not mad okay? And I won’t make fun, I swear. So just… take care of it, ‘cos having blue balls ain’t gonna help anything.” Dean knew he should move his hand, couldn’t explain why he was still stroking the warm skin beneath his fingers. Well, he could but he’d managed not to touch Sam like this for _years_ , why the Hell couldn’t he control himself now?

The thought of losing control was what broke the spell. Dean finally managed to move away from Sam, sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed, feet finding the floor and letting the solid wood ground him as he spoke to the opposite wall. “I’m gonna go downstairs, and you’re gonna do what you need to, and then we’re not gonna talk about this again.”

Dean didn’t need an answer but as he started to stand, with every intention of walking out that door without so much as a backward glance, a hand grabbed the back of his shirt. Dean stopped still and the room went quiet again, Sam’s soft sounds of repressed pleasure had stopped and Dean had run out of willpower to pull away again.

“Stay,” Sam whispered and Dean must have wax in his ears or something because Sammy couldn’t possibly have said-

A hand found it’s way under his t-shirt, fingers spreading up his back while a thumb rubbed circles into the dip at the bottom of his spine.

Dean shivered.

“Sam,” he said in warning, but the strength was gone from his voice, his brother’s name more of a plea. Whether to halt or continue though, he had no idea.

“I wasn’t dreaming about some girl, Dean.”

Sam couldn’t do this. Dean wanted him so much and if this wasn’t real, if this was just Sam messing with him… He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t watch the disgust on Sammy’s face if this was all a joke and Dean had gone too far.

“Let me go, Sam,” Dean said, voice hard at the thought of Sam messing with him like this.

“Dean-”

“Now.”

Sam slowly moved his hand away but instead of leaving, Dean spun to face his brother, his fury needing release.

“What the fuck, Sam? I’m your brother! This kind of sick joke isn’t funny!” It hurt so much, to think of Sam using Dean’s own forbidden desires against him, even if he knew it wasn’t on purpose. They were brothers and although Dean never expected Sam to want more than that, how could his brother joke so casually about wanting Dean? Surely as his brother, Sam should know better than to use this of all things to prank Dean with?

Sam looked stricken, his hand pulling back from where it had been reaching out to placate Dean.

“Sick?” Sam asked and he looked like he was going to cry, or throw up, or maybe both.

Sam looked _devastated_.

Oh fuck, he was wrong. Oh _fuckshitdamnballs_ he was so fucking wrong.

Sam wanted him, it was written all over his face, and Dean had just basically called him a sick fuck for it.

“Sammy-”

“No Dean,” Sam choked out, “It’s fine. I’m s-sorry.” Sam pulled back into himself, one arm wrapped tight around his knees, pulling them up to his chest like he’d done when he was younger, while the other hand gripped his long hair tightly. “Just go okay. I understand. Just- just don’t draw this out okay? Please. I won’t bother you I swear, just make it quick Dean.”

Sam buried his head in his knees, a sob leaving him and Dean had to fix this right now.

“Sammy, I ain’t leaving,” because that was sacrosanct. Dean would never leave Sam. He climbed back onto the bed and moved over to his brother, threaded his fingers through Sam’s hair as he wrapped the younger man up in a hug.

Sam fell into his arms, sobs wracking his body now but still he whispered, “Just go Dean.”

“Never,” Dean said and held him tighter. “I’m so sorry Sammy. I didn’t know… I didn’t believe you could feel the same way I do.”

It seemed to take a second for Sam to hear Dean’s words, to decipher their meaning. The room was eerily quiet, the rest of the inn seemed far removed from them right now and it was easy for Dean to believe that they could remain hidden away here forever, but eventually dawn would come, and there would be no hiding from the bright morning sunshine, nor the darkness of their lives.

Dean was tired of hiding anyway.

“The way you feel?” Sam asked softly.

Dean pressed a kiss to Sam’s temple, moved the hand in his hair down to caress Sam’s jaw.

“How I’ve always felt,” was all Dean said and then Sam was turning his head and finding Dean’s mouth with his own.

The press of their lips was nothing like Dean thought their first kiss would be on the few occasions he’d allowed himself to imagine the possibility. It wasn’t fire and need and passion. It was barely a touch really; tentative, innocent almost. It contained every hope they felt in that moment and every desire they’d ever hidden from each other and it was nowhere near hesitant.

It was a simple press of lips against lips and it was everything Dean could have wished for and everything he’d never have asked for.

They pulled back slowly, watching each other with matching smiles of happiness and disbelief for the shortest of moments before Dean dove back in, stealing Sam’s breath for himself as he nudged open his brother’s mouth, the flavour of Sam intoxicating upon his first taste.

He groaned and the noise seemed to jolt Sam into action, the taller man shuffling down the bed and pulling Dean ontop of him. Dean slotted himself between his brother’s legs just right and ground down into him, their cocks nudging against each other through the thin layers of their underwear.

“Clothes Sammy,” Dean gasped but Sam held on tighter.

“No time Dean, need it, need _you_. _Please_.” Sam finished on a long moan as Dean dug his hand underneath him, grabbing his ass and pulling Sam up into Dean’s thrusts.

“Next time-” Dean gasped, “Next time I’m gonna get inside you Sam.” Sam bucked up, an endless stream of nonsense leaving his lips like a prayer. “Gonna open you up so slowly little brother, make you whine and beg and then I’m gonna make you wait a little bit more.” His own words were driving Dean to towards the edge just as fast as they were Sam.

“Yeah, yeah Dean. I’m all yours. Only yours.”

“Maybe I’ll just use my tongue,” Dean said and licked a stripe up Sam’s neck, licking into his brother’s open mouth but pulling back before Sam could react. “Bet you’ll taste even better down there Sammy,” Dean whispered and squeezed Sam’s ass as he pressed down into him.

“Fuck Dean, you don’t even know-”

Dean bit his brother’s shoulder through his shirt and Sam almost screamed as he came in his boxers, Dean following straight after at the sight of his writhing brother coming so sweetly beneath him.

Dean stayed where he was as they came down from their highs, panting into each others mouths, taking sweet, wet kisses from each other now and then. Eventually though, Dean had to roll off, not having to deal with dried come in his shorts was one of the highlights of being a fully grown adult.

He walked into the bathroom without a word and after wiping himself down, he left his shirt and underwear on the bathroom floor and returned to hand Sam a fresh damp cloth.

“Thanks,” Sam said quietly, his eyes taking in all of Dean as he quickly stripped off his own clothes and cleaned up. Taking Dean’s hand, Sam pulled him gently back onto the bed, leaned up onto his knees to meet Dean with a lazy kiss. Dean felt sated and happy and could have kept on kissing Sam like that until his dick recovered enough for something with a bit more finesse this time around, but the sound of sirens heading towards the inn soon had them parting, staring wide eyed at each other. Commotion from downstairs filtered back into their bubble of happiness and from the shouts and cries it was clear someone else had been killed.

“Shit,” Dean said and they leapt up to yank their clothes on.

Guilt hit Dean hard in the gut but he pushed it down. Whatever had happened, they couldn’t have predicted it. One look at Sam though and Dean could tell his brother wasn’t even trying to defend himself, he was just taking the guilt of another victim or victims and adding it to the list of those they’d lost. Those they’d failed.

“We couldn’t have known, Sammy.” Sam was shaking his head before the words had left Dean’s mouth in their entirety.

“We should have been walking the halls, doing our job.”

“No, you were right before Sam. It was a long drive and we needed the rest. Besides, the murders happened in this room, in Lizzie Borden’s room. I know the plan was always to stake out the whole building but it’s not even past midnight, this is where we would have been staking out even if we hadn’t been fucking.”

Sam flinched but Dean couldn’t bring himself to take back his words. He wasn’t going to shrink away from this and he certainly wasn’t going to regret it when it was exactly what he’d been wanting for so long.

“It wasn’t our fault, Sammy. Don’t let it ruin this for us. Please,” Dean whispered the last, hating himself for how desperate and afraid he sounded in that one word.

Sam paused in putting his shirt on, slowly pulled it over his head and down to cover up rigid muscles covered by silky soft skin. He walked over to Dean just as slowly, like Dean may lash out at any moment, until he stood in front of Dean.

Dean looked into Sam’s eyes, not backing down, not surrendering to the fear coursing through his veins that this would all end before it really began.

Sam took his face in his big hands. “Of course it won’t,” Sam said, before pressing a soft kiss to Dean’s lips, “Now that I have you Dean, I don’t plan on ever letting you go.”

Dean gripped his brother’s shirt tightly with both hands at the waist. “That goes both ways you know,” was all Dean said, knowing his brother would know how much the claim truly meant to him.

“I know,” Sam said with a small smile.

“We should get to work,” Dean said but Sam’s mouth proved to be too tempting and he drew his brother into a kiss, deepening it until he’d tasted every inch and explored every surface.

Sam eventually murmured his agreement against Dean’s lips and Dean pulled back.

“Okay,” Dean said, “Let’s get going then ‘cos the sooner we gank this mother, the sooner we can get back to the bunker and christen the rooms in a wholly unholy way.” Dean smirked and Sam rolled his eyes and just like that they were back into hunting mode.

Partners, brothers, and as Sam guided him through the door with a low hand on the back, Dean knew they’d be lovers too. Being all three at all times was bound to be a bumpy road in places but with Sam riding shotgun, Dean would be damned if he didn’t enjoy the ride.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. :) If you did, I LOVE kudos and comments, they keep me writing!
> 
> On a side note, I really wanted this to fit in with the guilty look Sam gives the son of the third victim. Not because he wouldn’t have felt guilty anyway, but because I had to put the scene here because later they’re babysitting the soulless guy and I thought hey, might as well use that reaction as a backwards plot device. :P


End file.
